


Only

by firesonic152



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Developing Relationship, M/M, Meta, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesonic152/pseuds/firesonic152
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura had many things to learn about Masamune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only

Yukimura had many things to learn about Masamune.

* * *

When they first became rivals, Yukimura had to learn the way he lived - a warlord, for whom the glory of battle was above all other triumphs.

Time and time again they clashed, and with each fight, Masamune became more familiar to him - the way he moved, at once both fluid and jagged, sidestepping easily only to dart forward and plunge the edge of his six claws into the nearest opening, gliding through the air, a dragon that did not need wings to fly, striking like lightning and retreating just as quickly. It dazzled Yukimura, made it hard to see as he just barely blocked another lunge, breath catching at the way Masamune's single eye was trained only on _him_ , the ferocity, the savage but graceful beast focused only on _him_ , only _for_ him.

Over time, his lungs grew used to that glint in Masamune's eye, but his heart never did. He learned that only Masamune could ignite the blaze in his chest, the only one who could make the terror of an inferno into the comfort of a fireplace - only for _him_.

* * *

When they first became friends, Yukimura had to learn the way he laughed - a man, for whom beauty was in the rare calm of an afternoon spent watching the cherry blossoms.

On these occasions, the times they had salvaged from the dust of an era consumed in turmoil, Yukimura finally remembered what it was like to breathe with his whole body rather than crushing down just enough to drive himself forward. The silence between them as they sat was easy, as natural to them as conflict, as instinctive as the feel of a weapon in their grasp. Nevertheless, it was not the silence that Yukimura treasured, though it was important to him, but the few instances in which they murmured quietly to each other. Simple exchanges, nothing more than to point out a pink petal as it slid along the breeze or to recall a long-lost memory; but every now and again, Masamune's lips would curve upward in a smile of ethereal contentment, a soft sigh of amusement resonating in the sweet air, and Yukimura's heart would slow to a stop as he was reminded that these moments were only for _him_ , those shy, _vulnerable_ glances were only _his_ to cherish.

Over time, his heart conformed to the beat of the sun on their skin and the grass sweeping along its windy path, but his soul never did. He learned that only Masamune could weave the bloodshed into harmony, the only one who could soothe the tiger to sleep.

* * *

When they first became partners, Yukimura had to learn the way he loved - a companion, for whom an equal completed the missing hollows of his very being.

And each time Yukimura laid him down on his bedroll, Masamune's fingers would brush his cheek, curl into his hair, trembling with a waver so slight that Yukimura sensed the vibration more than he felt it. Remembering how to breathe with his _spirit_ was so much clearer when it was through the aroma of Masamune's skin, through the scent that made every touch an earthquake and every sound a hurricane. Their affections presented themselves as a ballad of war, each bite a tender kiss, every cry a whispered devotion, and Yukimura was snared by the dance, forever entrapped in that electric eye overwhelmed with a passion that was only for _him_ , only _his_ to keep, a promise that was only _theirs_.

Over time, his soul, worn and faded, became irrevocably knotted with the only one who had ever, who _could_ ever, make him _whole_.

But his beloved never did.

He learned that life was unforgiving, ugly and selfish, and death was but a complacent shadow that gathered the stragglers.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for a totally unrelated prompt but it just evolved into this on its own.
> 
> Purposefully left with an ambiguous ending - interpret it how you will. I'd love it if you messaged me with your thoughts!


End file.
